


Box of Darkness

by notjustmom



Series: The Mentalist [3]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Established Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon, F/M, Post Season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 13:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21320734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: “Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”― Mary Oliver
Relationships: Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon
Series: The Mentalist [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1526000
Comments: 16
Kudos: 66





	Box of Darkness

There were nights when he held her until she fell asleep, and then he would slip from their bed, make a cup of tea, then pull a chair close to the bed and watch over her as she slept. 

Those were the nights when he knew the darkness would find him, and he needed to be reminded that there was light. He would tell himself that without all the pain that came before, he would not have the sweet, fragile peace he had now. 

She would always wake up, sensing he needed her and seek him out. She would offer him her hand, then make room for him on the tiny bed, and hold onto him as he finally closed his eyes, and slept fitfully. She held on through the nightmares that visited him, murmuring words that she knew would ease him back to sleep, back to her. She knew the images he saw, because she would see them too. She needed the reassurance of his presence as much as he needed hers, though she knew he believed her to be stronger than the things that haunted them both. The darkness had given her everything, and taken nearly as much; she knew she would not be where she was without it, she wouldn’t have this gentle, brilliant man who shivered now in her arms. She wouldn’t be wearing his rings, or carrying his child, a child she never believed she would have, and yet, the universe, or God, or whatever, had decided otherwise.

“Lisbon.” 

He tightened his arms around her and she felt him relax as she pressed her lips into his hair and whispered the words he needed to hear.

“I’m here, love. You’re safe now.”

“Love you, Lisbon.”

“Yeah, love you too, Jane, love you too.” Sometimes he would open his eyes to search for the light she offered him, and they would make love slowly and sweetly, until he sobbed into her neck, then he would roll them and settle her against his chest, and his hand would rest lightly over the child that was growing inside her. Her fingers would find his and he would tell her everything he was thinking about, until she fell asleep to the sound of his voice. And life went on, as it always did.


End file.
